


Burning Guilt

by nauticalwarrior



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sad, could be friendship tbh, poor russia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 19:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7120117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nauticalwarrior/pseuds/nauticalwarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Russia has ruined his chances. Nobody will ever trust him, not after all the things he's done. There is no hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I've been sitting on this for while and decided to finally post it! I could theoretically make it longer, but as of now it's a one-shot.

_ It’ll get better.  _

 

Russia steps inside the meeting hall, boots dragging against the carpet. He peers inside, hoping to catch someone’s eye. America is the first to spot him, a frown forming on the blonde’s face. He says something to England, who swats him on the back of the head. Russia doesn’t have to hear them to know America insulted him.

 

_ It has to.  _

 

Russia walks to his seat and slides into it, a smile fixed on his face. If he smiles, they won’t be as afraid, right? He glances around and catches sight of Lithuania, sitting just a few seats down from him and on the other side of the table. When he turns and sees Russia, Russia smiles wider. Lithuania cringes and looks away, a slight tremble in his shoulders.

 

_ They can’t be afraid forever. _

 

Russia takes his notes out of his bag, glancing over the summary of the last meeting. That one was at America’s capital, and this one is in France. Much closer to home, but he still had to take a plane. When would the meeting be at his place again? He looks around, trying to find Germany. He would know, for sure. But the tall blonde is nowhere to be found. Instead, Russia stands up and walks over to a short brunette, Germany’s little italian. Veneziano will know where Germany is. 

 

“Italy, have you seen Germany?” The italian in question jumps in surprise and turns away from his brother to face Russia. His lips quiver a bit, and his eyes are wide. 

 

“I-I-I-I-” He can't seem to get anything out clearly, so Russia encourages him.

 

“Speak up, or I will not be hearing you.” Russia must have said something wrong (his english has never been the greatest, even after all of this time) because Italy twitches, exclaims something in incomprehensible italian, and runs off with his brother close behind. 

 

_ You scare them.  _

 

Russia sighs and trudges back to his seat, his boots dragging against the floor. He still doesn’t know where Germany is, but he doesn’t feel like trying again. Who would he ask that wouldn’t run away, anyways?

 

_ They hate you.  _

 

Russia bites his lip as he sits down, hiding his face in his scarf. The meeting will start soon, so he just has to wait until then. Then, at the first break, he can ask Germany when the meeting will be in Russia. It’s been a while, so it should be soon, right? 

 

_ It’s never going to be at your place because nobody trusts you to let them leave.  _

 

It’d be nice if it was soon. Then, Russia wouldn’t have to take a plane! Or stay in a nasty hotel. Actually, if it was at his place, then nobody would need to stay at a hotel, since his house is so big and not far from the convention hall. 

 

_ Nobody wants to sleep in that prison.  _

 

Russia is startled out of his thoughts by a loud slam. “Quiet! The meeting is starting!” Ah, there’s Germany! As loud and authoritative as always. The other nations stop their personal conversations and squabbles, turning to face Germany as he runs through the usual rules for the meetings. Russia barely listens; the procedures re always the same. The main topic for this meeting is global warming and ecological preservation- something that the world is struggling with. Russia doesn’t have it as bad as some of the others, but he’s been feeling the effects lately. He’s had a cough that wouldn’t go away, a throbbing headache at times, and he knew it would only get worse. His bosses don’t care as much as they should, and it isn’t enough. But, it could get better if this meeting goes well. The representations don’t have the influence they used to, but they can still do plenty of good. 

 

_ You never did anything good, for anyone.  _

 

“Russia?” The sound of England’s voice surprises Russia, and he jerks in surprise. 

 

“Da?” He realizes that everyone is looking at him, so he smiles. Smiling is friendly, so nobody will be scared. Russia is friendly now. 

 

_ A little too late for that.  _

 

Germany sighs, and answers for England. “He asked if you were taking any measures against water pollution.” 

 

Russia hides his face a bit more, but keeps smiling. “Da, I am. The cleanup efforts in Lake Baikal have been very successful. We have also had decreased pollutants in the Black Sea, and factories are being held accountable for their waste.” Russia feels a surge of pride. He’s doing things to  _ fix  _ stuff. His country is improving. He’s doing good.

 

_ Fixing your own mistakes isn’t “good”. You’re still a black stain on the world.  _

 

England and Germany nod simultaneously, but they aren’t the next to speak. A loud american accent fills the conference hall. 

 

“Dude, nobody cares that you’re cleaning up some lake. You should be worried about the whole world, not just yourself, commie.” America’s voice grates on Russia’s nerves, but he doesn’t let himself stop smiling. If he stops smiling, then nobody will like him.

 

_ They don’t like you even when you are smiling.  _

 

“Lake Baikal is 20% of the world’s accessible fresh surface water. It is important to the whole world.” Russia is proud of himself for not snapping at America. He’s being nice, not scary. He’s not hurting anyone. 

 

_ But you do hurt people. You did in the past, and you will in the future. All you do is hurt.  _

 

America snorts and crosses his arms over his chest. Russia can vaguely hear England chewing America out, probably for being stupid, and Germany shushing the both of them, but Russia isn’t really paying attention. He doesn’t think that he’ll be called on again, not after he explained already. There’s not much more to ask. 

 

_ The reason they won’t talk to you is because they hate you.  _

 

Russia shakes off that train of thought. It’s not helping him any to think like that, and it’s not like he can change anything anyway. They’re won’t magically start liking him just because he stresses out over his flaws.

 

_ You do have an awful lot of them. Flaws, that is.  _

 

And suddenly the conference room is too hot for Russia. He’s burning, burning, burning up in  _ shame _ . It’s his fault that people treat him this way, his fault that they are afraid. His fault that his people suffer.

 

_ You could have done something, could have changed something. You’re immortal, why didn’t you do something? When your people were suffering, why didn’t you do something? When your people were starving, why didn’t you do something? When your people were dying in battle, why didn’t you do something?  _

 

Russia stands up and makes for the door. He hears an exclamation behind him, but he doesn’t really listen. He needs  _ out.  _ This conference room is too cramped.

 

_ It’s cramped because you’re too big. Too loud too scary too dangerous. Why do they keep you around? Oh wait, they don’t. Nobody wants you here anyway.  _

 

Russia shuts the door behind him, but he feels it stop. Someone followed him out. He turns, surprised, only to have to look down. China. 

 

_ He doesn’t like you either. If it wasn’t for you and your stupid communist inspiration, thousands would have been spared from famine in China. It’s your fault. Their blood is on your hands. He doesn’t like you.  _

 

“Russia?” China sounds worried. “Are you alright?”

 

_ He’s not worried for you. He’s worried you’re mad.  _

 

Russia tries to speak, but he can’t manage to find the right word in english. When he speaks, his voice is thick and deep and unpleasant in his throat. 

 

“Nyet.” He feels something uncomfortable bubbling in his chest, burning and simmering. He can’t even talk right. Can’t shut up. Can’t just let China go back to doing something he’d rather be doing. 

 

China nods, and Russia swallows, trying to keep the thick heaviness under control. He feels his eyes start to burn a little too, prickling painfully. 

 

_ Are you going to cry like a baby? Are you going to pretend that you’re an innocent little child when you’re not? They don’t believe the act. They will never trust you. Ever. _

 

“Let’s go. I can talk about pollution another day.” Russia can't read the emotions in China’s voice, can't understand why China doesn’t look scared or mad.”Where’s your hotel?” 

 

Russia opens his mouth, trying to speak, but all that comes out is a low noise. He bites his lip, shakes his head, and tries to hide his face in his scarf as much as possible. It’s still too hot, too hot in the hallway even though it’s winter outside and if he just went outside he’d be able to breathe. If he went outside then he wouldn’t feel like there’s ropes around his neck and chest, pulling pulling pulling like a vice and he wouldn’t feel a sharp boiling of black poisonous guilt in his eyes and in his throat and if he were outside then he’d be able to  _ breathe  _ and-

 

“Breathe, Russia. Come on, deep breaths.” Is China talking to him> No, nobody would talk to him because he’s a menace, he’s- “Aiyah, what am I supposed to do?! Russia, please! You have to calm down!” Russia cannot calm down. It is too hot, far too hot and he is scaring China just like before he’s scared everyone away forever and nobody is ever going to forgive him nobody will ever care ever again he’s ruined himself for eternity there is no going back and fixing thing he cannot be fixed he-

 

“Ivan!” His name, his  _ real  _ name, startles him out of his thoughts, and he can feel his chest burn as he gasps. He looks up at China (up? Since when has he been on the ground?) and sees that the smaller man is red in the face, his brows furrowed and a frown on his lips. It’s hard to concentrate though, because Ivan is suddenly aware of how very hard it is for him to breathe, how much his chest feels like there’s a red hot vice around it, burning his lungs and boiling his blood. His head is spinning, and his eyes burn. Is he crying?

 

“Breathe, please. If you don’t breathe then you will faint, and I don’t think I can carry you, so you need to breathe.” China sounds frantic, Russia notes absently. But he tries to comply, if only to prevent him from feeling guilty about yet another thing. He struggles, but manages to suck air into his lung then push in out in a ragged, raw breath. 

 

_ It would be better if you died.  _

 

And another, ignoring his own thoughts. He realizes now that China is rubbing circles on his back, and that he is on his knees next to the shorter man. He must have collapsed at some point, fallen because he was choking on lava in the air. It’s still far too hot, but he can’t quite remember how to say that in english, and he knows China speaks very little Russian, so instead he chokes out the next best thing.

 

“Outside.” He meant to sound polite, but his throat feels like it is still being held shut, and it is hard for him to even say that much. China must understand though, because he nods and helps Ivan up, throwing one of Ivan’s arms over his shoulder and letting the bigger man lean on him.

 

_ You’re so big because you steal what belongs to others. The only thing you ever do to “help” your country is drive away potential allies, so that when you’re in real trouble nobody will come.  _

 

They are outside before he know sit and the cold winter air (although not cold enough, not really) is blowing across Ivan’s face and soothing the burn. He takes a breath, relaxing slightly as the icy wind seems to melt into his body. He reckons that it isn’t even freezing outside, yet the cold still works it’s magic, chasing away that stifling, bubbling feeling.

 

“Better?” Russia is almost startled by China’s voice; he’d nearly forgotten the other was there. He still doesn’t trust himself to speak, instead choosing to nod. The other man seems satisfied, staring out at the city and not saying anything. 

 

_ He’s just quiet because he’s scared. _

 

“Ivan?” China sounds nervous, and Russia feels his heart sinking.

 

“Yes?” His voice is still raspy, but it does that job.

 

“If you’re having trouble...” China clears his throat. “I mean, if things are hard, you can talk to me. I’ll help.” China sounds genuine, but part of Russia wonders if it’s a joke. China can't mean that, not really.

 

“But Russia is fine.” Ivan thinks that he must mean Russia.

 

_ Because there’s no way he’s worried about you. _

 

“No, I meant if  _ you  _ needed to talk to someone. Not as China and Russia. As Yao and Ivan.” China- no, Yao- offers Ivan a small smile, and Ivan tries his best to return it. He’s not used to having his smile be real, not really. This all feel too good to be true, and it probably is, but Ivan still feeling a good kind of warmth blossom in his chest. Maybe he isn’t hopeless. Maybe things can change.

  
_ Or maybe they can’t. _

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, and please leave kudos/comments if you did!


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